


Feed Me

by justdk



Series: Double-Edged side stories [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs in a Car, Car Sex, Comfort, Crying, Established Relationship, Hand Feeding, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24923692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justdk/pseuds/justdk
Summary: In which Declan and the Gray Man take care of each other in different ways and the Mitsubishi sees a lot of action
Relationships: Mr. Gray | Dean Allen/Declan Lynch
Series: Double-Edged side stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804615
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	Feed Me

**Author's Note:**

> this story is set post-canon and Declan is early 20s. this is a side story for a longer fic i'm working on about how the Gray Man and Declan end up working together and, later, sleeping together

“What’s the situation?”

Declan set down his tray and slid into the booth across the table from the Gray Man. He looked unbelievably bright eyed and eager, improbably energized for eight in the morning. Especially after the late hours they had kept. The Gray Man sighed and mentally gave voice to the thought that many aging people had, that youth was wasted on the young.

“Mr. Gray?” Declan prompted, his head tilted to the side as he studied the Gray Man’s face. “You okay?”

The Gray Man blinked slowly.

This time it was Declan who sighed and shook his head, a fond smile on his lips.

“Here.” He passed the Gray Man a to-go cup as well as packets of sugar and a few creamers. “I always forget that you’re useless in the morning.”

The Gray Man gave him a _look_ and Declan blushed.

“Fine, you have your uses but verbalizing before coffee isn’t one of them.”

That was true. It took the Gray Man time to wake up and even though he and Declan had been working together – basically living together – for over half a year he still hadn’t been able to shake his lifelong habit of being antisocial before noon. He could do work and other things – his mind instantly jumped to the image of Declan sprawled under him, head thrown back, panting – but it was a struggle to speak.

Declan did not have that problem. The young man was learning, though, and trying to be considerate as he unwrapped his breakfast biscuit and didn’t force the Gray Man into talking. The paper wrapping crinkled loudly as Declan folded it back. He had a pleased expression on his face, one that only grew after his first bite. Declan made a groaning noise that the Gray Man was familiar with in another context and it had him shifting in his seat. Declan took another bite and his eyes closed in ecstasy, steam wafting in front of his face. It was downright pornographic.

When Declan opened his eyes he caught the Gray Man staring and he winked. His foot nudged the Gray Man’s leg, before moving up higher. The Gray Man glared at Declan and crossed his legs under the table. Like hell was he putting up with that kind of nonsense in a McDonald’s.

“Drink your coffee,” Declan urged. “And eat something. Your pancakes are getting cold.”

The Gray Man wrinkled his nose. Coffee he could deal with but pancakes? Breakfast was another thing he didn’t do, not when he was on his own. Food in general had never been something he got too excited about. His reactions and enjoyment didn’t even come close to Declan’s. Before he’d even finished doctoring his coffee – McDonald’s coffee took a bit of work – Declan was finished with his bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit and had started on his hash browns. He kept glancing at the pancakes, the want obvious. The Gray Man took a sip of coffee – it was hot, that was the best thing he could say about it – and pushed the pancakes towards Declan.

“No way,” Declan said. “I know what you ate yesterday, or more accurately, what you _didn’t_ eat, and you need those calories. And those,” he added, pointing to the sausage patties that were gleaming with grease. “Because eating me doesn’t count as protein.”

The Gray Man had been mid-swallow and Declan’s raunchy comment had him choking, doubling over and struggling for breath. Declan leaned across the table and patted his back. When the Gray Man glanced up Declan’s expression was smug. Oh, he was going to make him pay for that.

Declan pulled the pancakes over and proceeded to slather them with butter and drown them in syrup, using all the little plastic containers that they’d been given. Once he was done adding approximately 1000 more calories to the meal, he cut a bite with the fork and held it out in front of the Gray Man.

The Gray Man stared at him incredulously. Did Declan actually expect him to put up with being hand fed? And in a McDonald’s for Christ’s sake?

“C’mon, old man,” Declan teased, “won’t you eat one bite for me?”

There was no way in hell. The Gray Man pointedly took a long swallow of coffee.

Declan sighed and popped the bite of pancake into his mouth. He licked the syrup off the fork, maintaining eye contact the entire time, his foot rubbing distractingly along the Gray Man’s leg. Whatever shreds of self-control the Gray Man still had were rapidly eroding. He scooted away from Declan, got out of the booth, and stood up.

“Box that up, if you must,” he said, voice rough, “and meet me in the car.”

He didn’t miss the way Declan’s expression brightened; no doubt he was already planning new ways to torment him. The Gray Man pushed out of the restaurant, cut through the long line of cars waiting in the drive through line, and walked across the lot to where the white Mitsubishi waited in an out-of-the-way corner. The license plate – proudly proclaiming _THIEF_ – caught the sunlight and practically glowed. The Gray Man scanned the area as he made his way to the car, his nose full of the combined odors of exhaust, cigarettes, and that peculiar smell that frequently used parking lots developed, something like wet pennies soaked in spat out chewing tobacco. He opened the driver’s side door and got in, settling into his seat and placing the coffee in the cup rest.

Moments later the driver’s side door popped open and Declan leaned in. There was absolutely no space between them and Declan took advantage of that, swooping in for a kiss. The Gray Man had half expected it after Declan’s aggressive flirting and went with it. Declan tasted overwhelmingly like syrup, the kind that had never even heard of a maple tree.

Declan climbed in onto his lap, wedging his body in the narrow space between the Gray Man and the steering wheel. The driver’s seat was already back as far as it would go but the Gray Man was able to at least recline the seat somewhat, giving Declan more room. Declan pulled the door shut and settled in, his knees rubbing against the Gray Man’s hips, his weight pressing down on the Gray Man’s groin and already the Gray Man felt himself responding. God, he was helpless when it came to Declan.

Declan’s smile said he knew he was having an affect and enjoying it. He kissed the Gray Man again, bracing one hand on the seat’s headrest. The Gray Man kissed him back, hands sliding around Declan’s waist to cup his ass. His teeth tugged at Declan’s lower lip. If Declan wanted to fuck with him then he’d give back as good as he got.

“Oh fuck.” Declan’s eyes fluttered closed and he began to grind against the Gray Man. “You always do this to me,” Declan’s voice was low and hoarse. “I was gonna… I was gonna…” he gasped as the Gray Man squeezed his ass and rocked up against him. The Gray Man kissed the side of Declan’s neck, sucking and licking at his skin while Declan moaned.

“Mr. Gray, wait…” Declan shifted back and the Gray Man let him, though he didn’t release his hold. Declan’s face was flushed, lips red, eyes dark. He looked good enough to eat. And even though they were in a fairly busy fast food parking lot in broad daylight the Gray Man wasn’t deterred. But he’d wait for Declan; if Declan told him to wait, he would wait.

“I had plans,” Declan panted. From somewhere he produced the Styrofoam container of pancakes. He fumbled the container open and looked down at the Gray Man, the blush on his cheeks intensifying. “Will you eat?”

The Gray Man’s heart twinged painfully, like it was growing, expanding, too big to properly fit in his chest cavity. It should have felt emasculating or patronizing, to have a boy nearly half his age offering to feed him but instead it made him feel deeply cared for, in a way no one else had tried to care for him. Though, he could admit to himself, no one else had had the opportunities that Declan did; no one else had stuck with him this long or paid attention to whether he ate or not.

He lifted a hand to brush Declan’s cheek, his thumb skimming over his fever-hot skin. Declan nuzzled against his hand and it struck the Gray Man that this was probably new for Declan, as well. Declan was used to having his attempts at caring shoved back in his face, used to his overtures being rejected, dismissed. He’d overheard more than a few exasperated phone calls between Declan and his young brothers, had observed their dysfunction, even though Declan claimed things were getting better. He couldn’t tell Declan no and, frankly, he didn’t want to. The Gray Man already knew he’d do anything for Declan, anything to make him happy and keep him safe; he’d gladly give him this as well.

“Please,” the Gray Man said. He wanted to say more, to tell Declan how much it meant to him that Declan wanted to take care of him. But the words were still buried too deep, inaccessible. Maybe he’d tell him later, when they were sleepy and nestled together in another anonymous hotel bed. He’d tell him and take care of him the way Declan needed.

Maybe Declan understood because just that word – _please_ – made him shudder. He cut a piece of pancake with trembling fingers and brought it to the Gray Man’s lips. The Gray Man obediently opened his mouth and accepted the food. The pancakes were so sodden with melted butter and syrup that they practically dissolved on his tongue. He swallowed them down, his mouth full of the near-overpowering sweetness. Bite after bite he let Declan feed him until the pancakes were gone.

Declan set the tray to the side and the Gray Man gathered him in, arms wrapping around Declan’s back, hands stroking down his shoulders and spine. Declan cradled the Gray Man’s face in his hands and licked the syrup off his lips, licked into his mouth, and kissed him deeply. The sheer intimacy of the act of being fed, and Declan’s closeness and kisses, made the Gray Man’s dick throb.

“Baby,” the Gray Man whispered against Declan’s lips. His hands slipped under Declan’s shirt and roved over his skin, fingertips tracing the knobs of his spine and ridges of his ribs.

Declan kissed him again and again until they were both breathless and straining against each other, mouths sticky and sweet. “I want you so bad,” Declan moaned in his ear, his hand on the fly of the Gray Man’s pants. “Please, please let me have this.”

The Gray Man grunted in frustration. “We’re in public.”

Declan stroked him through his pants, his touch familiar and confident. “So take us somewhere private.”

The haze clouding the Gray Man’s brain made it difficult for him to think. They were in a new town, just passing through. He had no idea where they could go and they had already checked out of their motel.

“Please, Mr. Gray,” Declan begged again, “I need you.” His hand squeezed the Gray Man’s cock and that decided things. Either they found a secluded spot or the Gray Man was going to cum in his pants and that was unacceptable.

“You’ll have to get off me,” the Gray Man said. His voice sounded gruff and he kissed Declan softly on the lips to show he didn’t mean it like that. He was still getting his voice back. He’d already said more in the past few moments than he would usually say in an entire morning.

Declan sighed but moved over to the passenger seat, being careful to not knock over the Gray Man’s coffee. He slouched back in the seat, legs spread, his cock straining against the front of his jeans, but didn’t touch himself. He shifted around, obviously uncomfortable – and how could he be with jeans that tight? The Gray Man had to look away and focus on the task at hand: find somewhere private. He seemed to remember seeing signs for a park or nature area. Barring that there were always the roads less traveled – overgrown and desolate, tucked away off crack and pot-holed two lanes.

The Gray Man started up the car, waited an annoyingly long amount of time to merge onto the busy road, and followed the road out of town. He felt twitchy and needy and Declan wasn’t helping. Not only was Declan sucking syrup off his fingers, but he kept reaching over to touch the Gray Man. His hot palm traveled from his knee up his thigh and down again, sometimes brushing against his fly. Each slight brush made the Gray Man’s cock jerk and he wanted to tell Declan to quit it but the words were trapped in his throat. All he could manage was a heated glare that made Declan smile. Declan was such a menace, such a merciless tease.

Soon they were out of town and in the country, four lanes merging down to two, and the traffic petering out. The Gray Man kept his eyes peeled for dirt roads or a likely private spot; he had something of a knack for finding mostly forgotten places. He turned down a neglected-looking dirt road, the Mitsubishi bumping over the ruts and potholes. Declan had to give up his touching to grab onto the seat to keep from being thrown around. At last the Gray Man pulled over in a weed-choked turnoff next to a creek. The sudden silence after the cacophony of pinging gravel and tires grinding over dirt and rocks was electric with tension.

Declan sighed his relief audibly. He moved the Gray Man’s coffee again, setting it in the back with their jostled pile of go bags. The reason why became clear when Declan unfastened his seatbelt and bent his body over the center console, his hands shaking as he unfastened the Gray Man’s seatbelt and pulled down the fly of the his pants. The Gray Man watched him through half-lidded eyes, his breathing speeding up as he felt Declan’s hands on him, followed by the first warm puffs of breath on his cock. Declan tilted his head and looked up at the Gray Man while he trailed the tip of his tongue over the head of the Gray Man’s cock, lapping at him with short, teasing licks. He looked absolutely gorgeous, his tousled curls falling over his forehead, body twisted to make this position work, his ass up and those damn jeans stretched tight over it.

“Declan…” He gently touched the nape of Declan’s neck, his fingers inching beneath the collar of his shirt, pulling the fabric down and revealing a perfect bite mark. He traced it with his finger and felt Declan shiver.

“I want you,” Declan said, voice strained, “to feed me your cock.” Despite his bold words his cheeks were flushed as he said them and the Gray Man could see his frantic pulse thrumming under the thin skin of his throat. The Gray Man touched his pulse point with his index finger and middle finger, counting the rapid beats. He slid his fingers and palm over Declan’s throat, remembering how Declan sometimes liked for him to choke him, how he had been worried at first and didn’t want to hurt him. Remembered the way Declan’s hands had felt on his wrist as he guided him, coaxed him to wrap his rough, calloused hand around Declan’s fragile neck and squeeze.

This felt a lot like that.

It wasn’t that Declan hadn’t gone down on him; Declan seemed to greatly enjoy having the Gray Man’s cock in his mouth, which was… overwhelming at times. But in those situations Declan was in control, taking his pleasure while giving it. The Gray Man didn’t know how to process this switch up. It felt like when Declan asked to be choked or when he wanted to be restrained and at the Gray Man’s mercy. It felt too early in the morning for something so out of their normal way of doing things.

The Gray Man trailed his fingers from Declan’s throat to the back of his neck and into his hair. Once he had his fingers tangled in Declan’s soft curls and heard Declan’s pleased moan it was easier to figure out the rest. He held Declan’s head in place with his left hand and with his right hand he reached over and unzipped Declan’s jeans. He didn’t touch Declan’s cock but instead worked Declan’s jeans down, baring his ass – this actually required the use of both hands because Declan insisted on wearing jeans that were a struggle to remove. He sucked on his fingers until they were slick and reached over to tease Declan’s hole. Declan swore, his body jerking like he’d received an electric shock.

“Mr. Gray…” he whined, his lips brushing the Gray Man’s cock.

“Open your mouth.” The Gray Man didn’t even recognize his voice or the compulsion he felt to wreck Declan the way that Declan always seemed able to wreck him.

He lowered Declan’s head, felt the warm slide of his lips around his cock, then that soft, enveloping, familiar heat of his mouth. Declan’s tongue lay flat and smooth, which was also different; usually when Declan had his mouth on him he was very into using his tongue. The Gray Man pushed Declan down in slow increments, going deeper; aware that this wasn’t the angle Declan was used to. Declan’s hands were braced, holding himself up, and one was holding hard to the Gray Man’s thigh. Those fingers tightened and squeezed, urging him on.

The Gray Man bent down and kissed the back of Declan’s neck, sucking over the bite mark he’d left a few nights ago. Declan trembled but relaxed against him, more of his weight settling on the Gray Man. The Gray Man guided Declan down until his forehead was resting on the Gray Man’s hip, his nose brushing bare skin. Declan’s mouth was filling with spit and he swallowed, the movement massaging the Gray Man’s cock and making him moan, fingers tightening in Declan’s hair.

“That’s good,” the Gray Man rasped, his lips on Declan’s neck. He nosed into Declan’s hair, smelling hotel shampoo. He circled his fingers over Declan’s hole and Declan made a choked noise. “Relax,” he murmured and kissed behind Declan’s ear. “Be a good boy.”

Declan whimpered and nuzzled, as much as he could, into the Gray Man’s lap. His throat worked as he swallowed again and again but saliva still leaked out around his lips. The Gray Man hushed him, stroking fingers through his hair with one hand while, with his other hand, he carefully pressed a slick finger into Declan’s ass. Declan’s muffled groan around his cock was every bit as delicious as the way his muscles relaxed, letting the Gray Man’s finger in deeper.

It was an awkward angle, but the Gray Man managed to kiss Declan’s cheek, experiencing a strange thrill at sensation of feeling his own hard dick through the soft layer of Declan’s skin. Slow tears tracked down Declan’s face and the Gray Man licked them away. He rewarded Declan by adding another finger, causing his body to shake with gentle tremors.

“So good,” he said again and watched Declan flush from the praise. He straightened up, giving his spine a reprieve. He hardly knew where to look: at Declan’s head in his lap or at his fingers slowing thrusting in and out of Declan’s hole. The tight, hot squeeze of muscle around his fingers and the warm, wet pressure of Declan’s mouth and throat around his cock was a combination that totally wrecked his composure and ability to form coherent thoughts. Declan’s trembling hands kneaded the Gray Man’s thigh and his desperate, begging sounds increased as the Gray Man moved his fingers faster, crooking them so that the tips found Declan’s prostate. He held Declan’s head in place and began to thrust up into his mouth and down his throat, feeding Declan his cock just like he had asked him to.

Declan shuddered. The Gray Man felt dampness seeping into his pants and looked down to discover that Declan was crying in earnest now, fat tears running down his cheeks and soaking the Gray Man’s pants. His eyes were shut tight, face red, but he made no move to break free and showed no signs of true distress. He was simply overwhelmed. The Gray Man knew the feeling.

His hips moved in synch with the rhythm of his fingers. The car was loud with his harsh pants, Declan’s muffled moaning, and the wet, lurid sounds of fucking. It was too warm in the car and the position wasn’t comfortable for either of them. The Gray Man’s head spun with sensory overload: the tight heat of Declan’s mouth and ass; the sight of Declan’s head in his lap, his ass in the air – offering himself so completely; his helpless, choked off sobs; the overpowering smell of sex; the taste of coffee and syrup on his tongue. His body was tensing before he could warn Declan and he cried out wordlessly as he came, spilling into Declan’s mouth.

Declan did his best to swallow it all down, his throat working again and again as he swallowed. Cum still leaked from his lips and, when the Gray Man helped Declan up, he leaned in to lick it away. Declan’s mouth was swollen and red, his eyes were bloodshot and he was still crying, and his hair was a mess. The Gray Man kissed him gently on the lips and carefully pulled Declan back into his lap.

The car was really too cramped for this but he manhandled Declan, pushing his back against the steering wheel, and took a firm hold of his thighs. Declan flailed for a moment before grabbing onto the dash, his arms spread out to the sides. He whimpered, legs shaking as the Gray Man spread him, draping Declan’s legs over his shoulders, and lowered his head to swallow Declan whole.

This may not have been a part of Declan’s grand morning seduction plan but he didn’t complain. Instead he keened and writhed and begged, his gorgeous mouth filling the car with filthy words and strangled prayers and endless refrains of “don’t stop don’t stop oh fuck please.” The Gray Man worked him over with his mouth and tongue before slicking his fingers again and pushing them back inside Declan, finger fucking him and sucking him until Declan came with a hoarse sob.

Hot, salty cum settled in the Gray Man’s stomach with his first breakfast of sweet pancakes. It was immensely satisfying.

“Oh fuck,” Declan’s voice was as ragged as his breathing, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His body went boneless and he toppled forward against the Gray Man’s chest, his tear-stained face pressed into the Gray Man’s neck as he gasped for breath.

The Gray Man’s own breathing was labored but he was steadily regaining control, sinking back into his skin. He grabbed a handful of tissues from the pocket on the driver’s side door and set about cleaning up. Declan made soft whimpers when the Gray Man touched him and the Gray Man kissed his forehead and hummed quietly knowing that Declan liked feeling the vibration. He still couldn’t speak properly but this time it was from an abundance of feeling, not his usual morning silences.

When the Gray Man had finished getting them sorted he helped Declan get his briefs and jeans pulled up. Declan knelt over front of him, his body hunched up in the confined space, arms braced on the headrest. Declan laughed as the Gray Man struggled to get the tight jeans over his ass. The Gray Man growled threateningly, thinking about all the things he would say later about stupidly tight jeans; he vastly preferred Declan in soft, slouchy sweatpants or loose shorts that were almost short enough to count as boxers. He squeezed his hands around Declan’s hips and tugged him forward, planting a kiss on the sharp hipbone above his jeans. Declan’s skin rippled with goose bumps and he heard Declan gasp.

“Don’t start,” Declan warned, voice still hoarse. He sounded – and looked – well fucked and it made the Gray Man’s chest feel warm. “I swear, you get so touchy-feely after sex it’s a wonder we ever get anything done.”

The Gray Man looked up at Declan and raised an eyebrow. He wanted to say, _‘You started it.’_

Declan slouched down, sitting on the Gray Man’s thighs, and pointed at the Gray Man’s face. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said confidently. “And all I did was feed you pancakes. _You’re_ the one who started kissing me and then drove me to the middle of nowhere to fuck me.”

The Gray Man flushed. That was true. He couldn’t seem to help it. Whenever Declan climbed on his lap he was done for. It always made him feel a rush of complicated emotions. He loved holding Declan like that; having him perched on his thighs like it was the only place he wanted to be. He loved it because it was Declan showing him trust and affection. He loved pulling Declan in, touching him, looking up to meet his gaze and then kissing him. Not that they always kissed. The first time Declan had turned to him like that it was when he had been hurting so badly that he was shaking, his teeth chattering, his mind and body on the verge of shutting down. It had broken the Gray Man’s heart and he’d held Declan while he cried and until he’d fallen asleep. He had realized then, to his shock and initial dismay, how much he cared for the complicated and damaged boy.

“Can’t help it,” the Gray Man whispered. He pressed his forehead to Declan’s, letting their noses brush. “You always make me feel…” He trailed off. He studied and translated poetry for God’s sake but he couldn’t find any poetic words for Declan that would accurately describe his feelings. It was something he would need to work on. The feelings were new and every day they sharpened, went deeper, carving him up and making him into someone new, someone better. “Everything,” he admitted, “you make me feel everything.”

“Mr. Gray.” Declan wrapped his arms around the Gray Man’s neck, his hands in the Gray Man’s hair and stroking the nape of his neck. “You make me feel everything, too.” Declan tilted his face and kissed the Gray Man’s lips. “That’s what I love about you.”

The Gray Man smiled and kissed Declan back.

**Author's Note:**

> one of my personal challenges is to write at least 200 words each day and this story was born out of one of those quick writing sprints. over a period of time I kept adding more and what started as a tame exploration of putting the characters in a McDonald's for breakfast became... This. I often struggle with writing explicit content and it took years - not an exaggeration - to get to the point where my brain and feels were up for writing this pairing that I'd been quietly obsessing over. so make of this what you will. these stories - and the Big Story - are entirely self-indulgent ways for me to explore some of my fave tropes with some of my favorite characters and make myself suffer along with them


End file.
